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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22666933">Decepticon X</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TtotheCofA/pseuds/TtotheCofA'>TtotheCofA</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I Wrote This For Me, I will try to go back and add tags as I go but for now just know, and I have only a vague direction for an overall plot, but if you enjoy it too that's really cool, that OCs abound, this all comes from an equally-self-indulgent RP blog, this is a shameless self-indulgent piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 16:13:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22666933</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TtotheCofA/pseuds/TtotheCofA</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of snippets that tell a larger story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Pranked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for the prompt: "One character playing a prank on another".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s gonna murder you for this, you know.”</p><p>“Pfft. He’ll have to catch me first.” Bane slowly pulled her servos away from the repurposed crate she’d painstakingly placed above the doorframe, and carefully leaned back as Quakefoot lowered her back to the floor. The slightest of vibrations could upset its precarious balance, and douse the unfortunate victim in cold seawater stolen from the ocean outside…</p><p>With any luck, that victim would be Skullbasher.</p><p>“Remember: tiptoe!” Bane reminded her cohort in an exaggerated stage whisper as she, herself, sneaked away from the scene of the soon-to-be prank as stealthily as she could. Quakefoot paused for comedic effect, and then followed after the smaller femme with slow - but still quite loud - steps. Miraculously, she who had been named for her ability to shake the walls when she walked did not upset the prank-in-waiting, and successfully joined Bane around the corner at the next hallway intersection.</p><p>“So…” Quakefoot leaned out around the corner above Bane, who was eagerly watching the door. “What makes you so sure it’s gonna be Skully who walks through that door first?” She asked.</p><p>“Because he always takes this route back to his quarters at exactly 1800 hours every day.” Bane replied confidently. “He’s nothing if not a creature of habit. This-<em>mmph</em>?” Bane made a muffled sound of confusion, and Quakefoot removed her hand from her companion’s mouth after a few seconds.</p><p>“I know what you were going to say, but if you say that out loud, you’re bound to jinx yourself.” She admonished. Bane rolled her optics at this superstitious warning, but left the sentence hanging all the same.</p><p>The pair hunkered down at the corner, alternately watching the doorway and their internal chronometers as 1800 ticked closer and closer. Quakefoot was quickly losing interest, but Bane remained single-mindedly focused on the door, as if something grand was about to happen. Quakefoot was just beginning to wonder how rude it would be for her to just walk away when she heard footsteps down the hall, and the door hissed open.</p><p>The crate wobbled, and fell - dumping its cargo of cold, dirty saltwater all over Sailback’s head and shoulders. Skullbasher, only a few steps behind his comrade, managed to jump out of the way of the splash, while the victim let out a furious shriek. Quakefoot clamped her hand around Bane’s mouth just in time to stifle her triumphant bark of laughter - she’d been hoping for Skullbasher, but Sailback was a <em>great</em> substitute! - and dragged her friend out of sight.</p><p>“Thaaaat’s our cue to go.” Quakefoot shoved Bane ahead of her down the hallway, and with Sailback’s angry howling just one junction away, it didn’t take much persuading to keep the smaller femme running.</p><p>“Hahahaha, that was AWESOME!” Bane crowed as they made their (not so quiet) get away. “Did you see the look on his <em>face</em>?! He was <em>livid</em>!!”</p><p>“Yeah, and if he heard your voice, he’s gonna work that frustration out all over <em>your</em> face.” Quakefoot grumbled as she ducked to squeeze herself through the entryway to the next wing. Bane shrugged her shoulders and made a dismissive sound.</p><p>“Like I said before: He’ll have to catch me first.” She laughed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Delirium</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dragonsbane wasn’t sure when she made it back to her quarters.</p><p>She didn’t remember walking - running - through the Nemesis. Her audios were still ringing with the scream of a fusion canon, and the dying cry of a friend. The splattering of energon against the walls and the heavy crash of a body hitting the floor were playing on loop in her mind, as if they had just happened. It felt so long ago already.</p><p>Quakefoot had been shaking her for nearly a minute before Dragonsbane realized she’d made it back, and she stared dumbly at her teammate’s lips as they moved. A small part of her thought she should be worried that the motions made no sense.</p><p>A larger part of her couldn’t care.</p><p>“Plate’s dead.” Her own words sounded too sharp and too loud to her audios. They sounded nonsense and formless, but they spilled over her lips nonetheless. “Megatron shot him. Here.” Her knuckles clanked against Quakefoot’s chest plate, and the taller femme rocked back a step. Dimly, Dragonsbane registered the dent left behind. She’d put too much force into the simple gesture.</p><p>Quakefoot was talking again; pushing on her shoulder struts and steering her out of the doorway. Dragonsbane let her. She was nudged against the edge of a berth, and she sat down heavily on it. Quakefoot was still talking, but the words didn’t register to her processor. The door hissed shut, and Dragonsbane shuttered her optics.</p><p>She could still see the bright pink splotches in the darkness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shaky Servos</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The knowledge of death and grevious injury had been a prominent part of her programing upon creation. It had to be, given what she and her teammates had been designed for.</p><p>But there was a difference between archival logs and seeing it in person.</p><p>And <em>especially</em> seeing it in a person you knew.</p><p>The datapad in her grip cracked, and the projected screen fizzled and died with a quiet little ‘pop’. Hook looked up at the noise, and made a disgruntled ‘tsk’ing sound in his vocalizer. Dragonsbane smiled sheepishly, and held out the broken piece of tech like a child caught with something they shouldn’t have.</p><p>“That’s the third one this month.” The Constructicon scolded. “We don’t have an infinite number of these, you know.” Shaking his head, the mech took the broken datapad and tossed it onto a nearby table. Opening a draw on the same, he dug around for a moment before coming up with another datapad, and only pausing briefly to download the proper files to continue the lesson.</p><p>“Reign in that strength of yours.” He warned as he handed the tech back. “Or <em>we’ll</em> do it <em>for</em> you.” Dragonsbane didn’t respond, and made a show of taking the object as cautiously as possible. If Hook noticed the gentle tremor in her servos - once disguised by her crushing grip on the first datapad - he took it for intimidation, and let it pass. Hook turned back to the body on the first table, and picked up the anatomy lesson where he’d left off.</p><p>Dragonsbane morosely resumed taking down notes, and tried very, very hard not to look at Platecracker’s colorless face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Hands Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Touch me again and I’ll rip your arm off.” The hand about to land on her shoulder hesitated, and drew back, but its owner began to laugh.</p><p>“Yer cute when yer angry, ye know that?” Sailback stepped into her personal space again, and Dragonsbane stiffened from wings to ped when she tried to step back, and found a wall instead. She bared her teeth in a snarl, puffing up her wings as if to make her look more intimidating than the mech who loomed head and shoulders above her, but Sailback paid her body language no mind, and braced one arm against the wall in front of him.</p><p>He leaned in close - too close! - and Dragonsbane’s closed snarl became an open-mouthed growl. Sailback returned it with a smirking growl of his own, taking the challenge as permission instead of the warning it was. He reached up his free hand to grab the femme’s shoulder, and in a snap of motion, Dragonsbane grabbed him by the wrist.</p><p>“I said, <b>dON’T TOUCH ME</b>!” The horrible screeching sound of tearing metal filled the hallway, only to be drowned out by Sailback’s shriek of pain. He staggered back from his teammate, staring dumbly at the remaining stump of his arm, before something heavy and jagged plowed into the side of his face, and knocked him to the ground.</p><p>With a primal roar, Dragonsbane leapt upon the mech, swinging his own severed limb again and again with all the ferocity she could muster. Her own angry cursing and Sailback’s screams of fear were quick to draw attention, and all too soon, Dragonsbane felt hands grabbing at her - arms, wings, torso, anywhere they could - to pull her off her fellow Dinocon. The dismembered arm fell from her grasp in the struggle - dented and bent and broken - and clattered to the energon-stained floor.</p><p>The hands holding her twisted and pushed - forcing her arms behind her back, and her knees to the floor. She roared again, a sound so unfamiliar to even her own audios, but she could not twist free. Venting hard, the femme looked up just in time to see Megatron striding down the hallway, with her teammates Skullbasher and Quakefoot not far behind. The look on her leader’s face could best be described as ‘horrified’, and Quakefoot looked equally shocked at the sight that lay before them.</p><p>But Megatron almost looked….impressed.</p><p>“And here I was beginning to think you were falling behind the curve.” The Decepticon leader chuckled as he stepped casually over Sailback’s whimpering, bleeding form. In his wake, the remaining two Dinocons hurried in and grabbed their comrade, roughly hauling him up and hurrying off to find him medical attention. Megatron stopped in front of Dragonsbane, and then knelt down to look the femme in the optic.</p><p>“For your sake, I’m glad you’ve proven me wrong.” He chuckled. Another snarl died in her throat, and Dragonsbane grit her teeth instead. Megatron rose to his peds, and almost as an afterthought, wiped a fleck of Sailback’s energon from his knee guard.</p><p>“Send her to the mines.” He ordered as Dragonsbane was hauled to her peds. “A few months down there should make sure we won’t have any further ‘incidents’….”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dragged Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The final beam snapped under the weight of the earth above, and collapsed in an instant.</p><p>Dragonsbane made a wild lunge for the next section of passage, but couldn’t quite make it; hundreds of tons of earth caught her heels as it plummeted down, and pulled her down with it. The cloud of dust and debris swallowed her whole, and the earth tried. Tiny particles clogged her intakes, and the femme convulsed, trying to hack them back out.</p><p>“<em>….-et up…!</em>” A voice - seemingly so distant - shouted at her. Large servos grabbed at her elbow joints, and tried to pull her free. The earth did not want to give her up, and Dragonsbane felt a surge of panic crawl up her spinal array; she kicked and thrashed against the earth, digging her fingers into the arms pulling hers like claws, seemingly deaf to their own pained cry.</p><p>The earth gave way once again, but only to set her free, and Dragonsbane staggered forward under the momentum of her own struggles and the one pulling her. Semper Fi had to duck as the femme’s wings tried to spread in the confined space, and crashed against the mineshaft walls. Unable to pry his arms from her iron grip, the mech only pulled her forward - away from the tomb still settling behind them.</p><p>Dragonsbane collapsed after only a few steps, overwhelmed by the flood of sensory information, and foreign glyphs streaming across her HUD. Semper Fi cursed, and pulled her forward again, using the femmes’ desperate grip to ensure she followed as he moved away from the collapse, and ran for the surface.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Isolation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As night fell over the farmland, the silence was an almost painful reminder of how busy the Nemesis had been.</p><p>The engine had always been humming through the walls; deep and pervasive, and inescapable no matter where you were. The halls had always echoed with the sounds of others moving, even distantly, and the periodic ‘ping’ of ship-wide announcements had ensured that there was never truly silence on the wreck.</p><p>But out here, in the shadow of mountains, with little more than trees and hills and very few humans for miles around, it was very, <em>very, <b>quiet</b>.</em></p><p>…….</p><p>Dragonsbane vented a bit of air between her denta, in part to hear something besides the creaking of her own joints, and the soft chirping of insects in the distance. She had never been so far from civilization (human or otherwise) since her creation, and the isolation of this place was…a little frightening, if she had to be honest.</p><p>But at the same time, it…wasn’t all that bad, either. She had a beautiful view of the stars, the femme mused as she tilted her head back to look up at the night sky. So far from any city or large habitation, there was no light pollution to drown out the celestial bodies. She could see the strip of the galaxy against the darkness, and all the planets and stars that filled in the space between.</p><p>It made her feel very, <em>very</em> <em><b>small</b></em>.</p><p>….and that wasn’t bad.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Gunpoint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ‘clank’ of the weapon against her helm broke the muffled haze laid over her audios, and Dragonsbane snapped to attention.</p><p>“Get up.” The mech behind her jabbed again, and the femme slowly climbed to her feet. She felt the weapon move down to the small of her back (was the shooter shorter than her?), and fractionally tilted her head - hoping to peer around her helm, and catch a glimpse of the one who’d surprised her. As soon as she had, however, Dragonsbane scowled, and dropped her defensive posture.</p><p>“You aft.” She growled, turning to glare at the minibot she’d mistaken for a Decepticon. The mech grinned, and lowered his weapon (not a blaster, but a simple length of piping). “I could have ripped you apart.”</p><p>“Ey, what did you expect?” Ricochets quipped back with a grin. Dragonsbane briefly thought about wiping it off his stupid face. ”First time I ever got this close without you noticing. I couldn’t pass that up!”</p><p>“Ugh.” Dragonsbane crossed her arms, and dropped back down to her previous seated position in the grass. “Do you have the stuff or not?”</p><p>“I do.” The piping disappeared into subspace, and was replaced with an energon cube. Dragonsbane couldn’t help the hungry edge to her stare. “Fresh from the old man’s bunker.” Ricochet began to pull out the rest of his illicit shipment and stacked them in the pasture; their eerie pink glow cast mysterious shadows on the wall of the isolated barn.</p><p>“Thanks, Rico…” Dragonsbane said before she could think herself out of it. “I appreciate you doing this for me. I know Rook doesn’t exactly…approve.” Rico shrugged as he pulled out the final cube, and meticulously added it to the pyramidal stack.</p><p>“As many bones as he has to pick with you, Boss can’t deny you’re the reason we didn’t end up scrap metal down a mineshaft.” The mech replied. “He just has trouble showing gratitude.” Ricochet stood up, and took a couple steps away before turning on one heel to face Dragonsbane. “Ey, you need anything else?” He asked. “Just say the word, and I’ve got it.”</p><p>“No.” Dragonsbane shook her head. “This should be enough until your next round. I’ll try to make it last two, even.”</p><p>“Alright…” Ricochet didn’t sound convinced, but spun around anyway. Dragonsbane pointedly did not look at the flash as the mech powered up his teleportation matrix, and flickered out of view. When the field was once more empty, the femme picked up one of the energon cubes, broke the seal, and took a long, grateful drink.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. [Human] Shield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dragonsbane forgot about the Autobot behind her about the time the Seeker clone plunged his sword through her midsection.</p><p>It didn’t hurt. Not like it should have, at least. The femme didn’t think much of it as she grabbed the blade out of the clone’s shock-slack servos and pulled it out herself with a nasty shriek of metal on metal. Looking the Decepticon dead in the optics, Dragonsbane took the weapon in both hands, and snapped it in half.</p><p>“Oops.” She deadpanned. The clone hesitated for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of disobeying orders, and quickly decided that any punishment Megatron might come up with would be less painless than a fistfight with someone who wasn’t phased by impalement. Dragonsbane took a step or two after the Con as he transformed and flew off, but that prompted a flood of unfamiliar red glyphs across her HUD, so she stopped.</p><p>She turned to look back at the Autobot the clone had been chasing, and adjusted her wings to keep her balance as she had to look up at the towering mech. A part of her thought she should probably be afraid. She’d seen this mech in the archival footage, and knew he was no civilian.</p><p>“…I’m <em>not</em> doing that for you again.” She warned before turning away and - despite the warning glyphs - running away.</p><p>The Autobot called after her, but she didn’t look back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Moving Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her last day on the farm came all too soon, and Dragonsbane briefly entertained the idea of disappearing into the mountains.</p><p>Just as quickly, she tossed the idea. She stood out far too much - in either form - to hide for more than a few days, at best. Summer was ending, which meant that the trees would soon start to lose their leaves, and it would be even harder for her to hide then.</p><p>Plus, it would be too easy to get pine needles stuck in her wing joints, and <em>ugh</em>, she’d have to deal with the <em>ice</em> once winter set in-</p><p>“You sound like your thinkin’ some mighty big thoughts.” Ferra spoke up from where she sat on her porch steps, poking away at a small ball of something soft with a needle. The femme blinked once, and then pushed a huff of mock-amusement though her pointed denta.</p><p>“Sound?” Dragonsbane quickly checked her internal chronometer. At least that one, she could read. “I haven’t made <em>any</em> sound in twenty minutes.”</p><p>“Exactly.” Ferra paused in her craft, and tilted her hat back with her thumb to get a better look at her robotic, soon-to-be-ex-roommate. “I’ve had goats and grandchildren just like you - if you ain’t makin’ a ruckus, then you’re up to somethin’.” The woman returned to her felting, confident that she’d made her point. “So what’s on your mind?”</p><p>“……” The Dinocon held out stubbornly for an almighty thirty seconds before giving in, and dropping her chin into her servo. “…I’m not sure I made the right decision.” She admitted. “The Decepticons seemed nice, too, when I first came online, and they did nothing but <em>lie</em> to me. What if…the Autobots are just as bad?” Dragonsbane shifted to press her peds together, and leaned forward over her spread knees. ”How can I trust them?”</p><p>“Well, they <em>did</em> save your life.” Ferra pointed out. The femme scratched idly at the thin weld seam in her midsection, where once a gaping sword wound had torn the plating asunder. “That’s a far better foot to start on than it sounds like those Cons had…and they have a better reputation, for sure.”</p><p>“…yeah.” Dragonsbane’s wings drooped from her shoulder struts. Oddly, that didn’t make her feel much better. Ferra let her companion sit in silence for another ten minutes before looking up from her project, and peering at a small group of shapes that had appeared at the far end of the rural road.</p><p>“Seems like your ride is here, dear.” The human stuck her needle through the strap of her overalls for safe-keeping, and planted her hands on her knees to stand up. “Remember to keep in touch,” Ferra tucked her half-finished project into her pocket. “And remember that my barn’s always open, if you need a place.”</p><p>“Thanks, Ferra.” Dragonsbane’s smile was genuine, for a few moments. “I promise, I will.” The human tipped her hat in farewell, and then climbed the last step up to the porch, and went inside. Dragonsbane stood up, careful to keep her wings from knocking the porch’s wooden pillars, and tried not to think too hard as the Autobot party turned off the main road, and onto the farm driveway.</p><p>Here went everything…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Explosion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The pressure wave struck before the heat, and left her audios ringing in its wake.</p><p>Instinct made her shield her head, though the shrapnel she felt pinging off her armor and body left only minor damage (where it caused any damage at all). The moment passed quickly, but Dragonsbane waited another few before she lowered her arms, and took stock of her surroundings.</p><p>The lab was - more or less - still intact, though a large radius around the project table was covered in a strange, orange-y soot. Smoke was still rising from some of the shrapnel that had been closest to the blast, and Wheeljack….looked fine, actually.</p><p>More orange than usual, but otherwise unharmed, and unfazed.</p><p>“Thaaaaat wasn’t supposed to happen.” The mech tried to dust off the orange soot, but it smeared and spread like mud, and he gave up after a few attempts. “Are you alright? That was a bit of a surprise.”</p><p>“…I’m fine.” Dragonsbane lowered her arms, and looked at the mess on her own limbs before deciding not to bother, and leaving it alone. “Does that, uh…happen often?”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. All the time.” Wheeljack sounded far too cheerful for the context, but if he wasn’t worried, Dragonsbane figured that she shouldn’t be, either. “At least we didn’t set off the fire suppression system this time!” The scientist laughed, already moving to start cleaning up the broken and scattered equipment. ”That would have made an even <em>bigger</em> mess…”</p><p>Cocking a nervous half-smile, Dragonsbane hesitated for a moment before moving to help clean up. What had she gotten herself into…?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Snow Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Illusion didn’t like this ‘winter’ thing much.</p><p>The snow that had fallen compacted beneath his weight like wet sand, and there were no waves to wash away the imprints like at the beach. It could freeze into a slick, crunchy sheet, and the loose stuff would get stuck in clumps to the fur between Peaches’ toes. As a mech who spend an awful lot of his time hiding from the world, this weather condition that made it all to easy follow him left him feeling vulnerable, and paranoid.</p><p>Which didn’t help him feel any calmer when he drove up the coast, and paid a visit to the Autobot base near Portland, Oregon.</p><p>Illusion didn’t want anything to do with Autobots, or Decepticons - not really. He didn’t have any loyalty for the faction that created him, and all he wanted to do was make his own life on his beach with his dog and his lifeguard friends. A part of him regretted ever taking up this invitation to visit Oregon. But then, another part of him felt that he owed something to Dragonsbane…she <em>had</em> saved his life, after all, <em>and</em> kept his little hideaway a secret for nearly two years.</p><p>She hadn’t even asked him to pick a side in this war, just…to visit. Even after he’d arrived, she’d met him outside the Autobots’ base, and hadn’t pressured him to go inside. There had been others with her - an Autobot called ‘Wheeljack’ and an absolutely towering mech that Illusion recognized as Optimus Prime - but they hadn’t pressured him to do anything, either.</p><p>They’d simply greeted him, and asked Dragonsbane not to stay out too long, because another snow storm was predicted.</p><p>As he followed the femme up the trail, Illusion couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder. He expected to see someone following them, but he never saw any movement in the snow, and the only sound he could hear was the frozen water crunching beneath their peds. Dragonsbane plowed through the stuff with hardly a care, and Illusion followed along at her heels - occasionally hopping from footprint to footprint when he wanted to break up his own trail. They finally stopped about halfway up the volcano’s slopes, and Dragonsbane sat down in the snow to dangle her legs off the edge of a shallow ledge.</p><p>After a minute of hesitation, Illusion sat down beside her, and crossed his legs.</p><p>“Thanks for coming, Lou.” Dragonsbane smiled down at the minibot. “I know this was a pretty big step for you.”</p><p>“<sub><b>Yeah, well…</b></sub> Illusion’s monotoned voice fell eerily flat against the cold silence of the snowy world around him, and he shrugged, hoping the gesture could convey the emotion his voice could not. “<sub><b>You asked so nicely…how could I say no?</b></sub>” Dragonsbane leaned back on her palms in the snow, and let her wings spread out behind her. Illusion let himself relax a fraction, now that he had some kind of barrier at his back.</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, looking out over the quiet, white landscape. Illusion wasn’t quite sure what they were supposed to be doing, in all honesty, and he jumped a little when Dragonsbane moved, and leaned forward over her knees.</p><p>“Hey Lou,” The femme grinned at him. “Do you wanna build a snowman?” She asked.</p><p>“<sub><b>…um.</b></sub>” Illusion lowered his audial fins in confusion. “<sub><b>What’s a…snowman?</b></sub>” He asked back.</p><p>“You don’t know what a snowman is?!” Dragonsbane gasped and snapped to her feet in a flurry of snow. “That’s criminal, Lou! Here,” She scooped up the minibot in one smooth motion, and he flickered out of sight for a second with a startled yelp. “Lemme show you!”</p><p>…….</p><p>Hours later, Illusion stood back from the (somewhat lopsided) snow pile they’d built. It only vaguely resembled something humaniod, with it’s pine branch arms and pinecone face, but Dragonsbane seemed pleased with it, at least.</p><p>He moved back to join his friend in the snow, looking over their handiwork, and the slowly darkening sky above. He had to admit…the view was pretty nice.</p><p>Maybe this hadn't been such a bad idea...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Trapped In A Maze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is <em>your</em> fault, you know…” Cliffjumper growled, refusing to look back at his unintended companion as he stormed ahead down the dark stone tunnel. “If you’d’ve just <em>stayed</em> behind cover - like you were <em>supposed</em> to! - we wouldn’t’ve gotten <em>stuck</em> down here.”</p><p>“<em>My</em> fault?” Dragonsbane had the nerve to sound offended, even as she had to squeeze through a narrowing in the tunnel that Cliffjumper merely walked through, and dropped down to her knees. “How is this <em>my</em> fault?? I’m not the one who ran headlong at <em>Megatron</em> while <em>screaming</em> at the top of my voicebox!”</p><p>“I would’ve hit him in time if <em>you</em> hadn’t come lumbering after me!” Cliffjumper shot back. The mech stopped, then, and angrily propped his servos on his hip joints. The tunnel ahead of them split in three directions, and only one of them was large enough to accommodate both Cybertronians. One was barely large enough for humans, for Primus’ sake.</p><p>“And, if you hadn’t drawn attention to me,” The grouchy Autobot continued. “Starscream <em>never</em> would’ve shot at me, meaning the ground <em>wouldn’t</em> have collapsed and <em>dumped</em> us down here, and we wouldn’t be <em>stuck</em> like Frizz-rats in a maze.”</p><p>“Well excUuuuuuUUUSE ME! I wasn’t about to give Megatron the satisfaction of punting your tiny red aft halfway across the battlefield.” Dragonsbane pushed her way through the narrowed walls with a metallic screech and a snarl, and made an effort to pull her wings as tightly as she could to her back in the tight space. Primus, what she wouldn’t give for a ceiling that was more than two feet taller than her! “Which way do we go now?”</p><p>“Which way do you think?” Cliffjumper snapped back. He waited just long enough for the femme to catch up, and then resumed his angry stomping down the one available tunnel. “And keep up! I’m <em>not</em> waiting up for you if you get lost!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Owned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After she hit the wall for the fourth time, Dragonsbane bared her sharp denta in a spiteful snarl, and hauled herself back to her peds.</p><p>The femme did most things out of spite, actually. It was the thing that kept her going; the driving force that made her refuse to bow her head when the going got rough. One of these days, that constant sense of spite was probably going to get her killed.</p><p>Maybe even today, a quiet part of her processor mused morbidly as the towering shadow of the Dinobot Slag loomed over her.</p><p>Of all the Autobots for her temper to pick a fight with, he was, hands down, the <em>worst </em>possible option<em> <strike>Primus she was going to <b>die</b> wasn’t she?</strike></em></p><p>Though her frame was littered with dents and sharp corners hammered flat, Dragonsbane squared up again, and raised her clenched fists the way Quakefoot had taught her. Like her fellow Dinocons, Dragonsbane was as sturdy as a titan, and as stubborn as a Sharkticon. She might be about to die, but damnit, she was going down with a <em>fight</em>.</p><p>“Is that the best you’ve got?” Dragonsbane quiped before her processor could catch up, and tell her that, maybe, just maybe, mouthing off to someone nearly twice your size was a bad idea. “Because if it is….that-. That’s pretty good, actually (<em>ow</em>)…”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Cold Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The body on the table was gray and colorless…thick layers of salt and the remnants of sea life that had slowly begun to reclaim it covered every surface - broken away to reveal smooth metal only where movement had broken them away.</p><p>For a moment, the light flashed across the visor, and its accusing gaze rooted Dragonsbane to the floor-</p><p>“This should be all we need for now, thanks.” The box of supplies was taken from her servos, and the femme snapped back out of her thoughts. Wheeljack had already turned to look back at the body on the table, and didn’t catch her distraction.</p><p>Or, if he did, he chose not to mention it.</p><p>“Not a pretty sight, is it?” The scientist sighed. “I think it’s pretty obvious how they died, but…in light of the Australian Incident, we need to investigate, just to be sure.” Wheeljack placed a gentle hand on Dragonsbane’s arm.</p><p>“You don’t have to stay for this part.” He told her gently. “Ratchet and I can handle things from here. Why don’t you go take some time off? We’ll give you a call if we need you, alright?”</p><p>“…alright.” Dragonsbane was surprised by how steady her voice sounded. She still couldn’t tear her optics away from Platecracker’s lifeless face. “I’ll. Uh. Be outside. I guess.” She leaned back on her peds, and hesitantly took a step back. Then another. And another.</p><p>Finally, she pulled her gaze away from the body on the table, and hurried out of the medbay.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Ghost In The Shell</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They went about their days as if he wasn’t even there.</p><p>They laughed in the halls and chatted amicably as he stood by - watching - from dark corners and doorways. They never looked when he spoke, when he shouted, when he screamed. When he reached out to them, they never stopped, and moved through him, as if he wasn’t even there.</p><p>Perhaps he wasn’t.</p><p>One of the bodies lying in the medbay was his, after all.</p><p>It had been difficult to understand, at first. How could he be there if he was also here, looking at himself? Was this a dream? A nightmare? The passing of time quickly killed these theories; the world around him turned on, and he never woke up. His body was, eventually, moved, but he didn’t know to where, because he did not tollow it. Instead, he followed the medic - away from his new tomb, down burning orange hallways to rooms that held more light, and laughter.</p><p>That’s where he saw her again. His friend, his sister, the one who <em>understood</em>. The words rose to his mind with little context, but he believed them anyway. Why would he feel so strongly if they were wrong? She couldn’t see him - notat first. None of them could. But as he followed her around for hours days weeks, he started to notice her gaze drifting to him whenever they were alone, or those around them looked away.</p><p>She could see him.</p><p>She could <em>see</em> him!</p><p>His sigh of relief at being known made her wings twitch, and hope rose again in his chest. Could she hear him, too?? He almost couldn’t believe he had gotten so lucky, and spent a week trying to prove himself wrong. He called her name in crowded rooms, and whispered jokes that had once made her laugh. His servo still passed through hers, but she turned her head every time he spoke, and though her optics missed his, she always seemed to know where he was in the room.</p><p>But it was a month before she began talking back.</p><p>“You’re not real.” She whispered to him once. They were alone in her room, with no witnesses but for the little dolls she had sitting on a lonely shelf. The dolls were good witnesses, for they would never speak. “You’re just in my head. You’re not real.”</p><p><em>“Aren’t I?”</em> He’d asked back. He felt pretty real…even if objects passed right through his servos, and no solid door existed that could keep him out, now. <em>“What does it matter if I’m not, anyway?”</em></p><p>“Plate-…” The datapad clutched in her hands creaked before the screen flickered in weak protest, and she eased up her tense grip. “I can’t afford to deal with this right now.” She never once looked up from the flash cards of foreign words. He wasn’t sure if that hurt more than her words. “<em>You’re. Not. Real</em>.”</p><p><em>“….”</em> He hadn’t spoken again, and when his sister didn’t look up at him for more than an hour, he left the room. He had left her alone, after that; he had taken to following random mechs around the base, regardless of where they went, or what they were doing. He tried to give his sister space - tried to avoid her field of view whenever he wandered into the same room - but he always found himself wandering back to her. He knew she didn’t like it, but he couldn’t help it.</p><p>He wanted - no, <em>needed</em> - to feel seen, and she was the one who <em>saw</em> him; who <em>understood</em> that important, mysterious <em>something</em> about him. He couldn’t remember what that was, but it felt important, so it had to be.</p><p>So he followed her, at the edges of rooms and the end of hallways, and tried not to take it personally when their optics met across the room, and she looked away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. O Romeo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>“He’s in the ocean”</em> They’d told him when he’d asked, laughing. As if he didn’t know exactly what they meant. As if they hadn’t done the exact same thing to the young life he’d taken under his wing. <em>“You’ll find him if you look hard enough.”</em></p><p>Offshore dragged his claw-tips across the sandy bottom, just lightly enough to be able to feel the dips and rises in the seafloor, and stir up as little of the sand and silt as possible. It had been ten days since he’d left the mining port, and he was straying further and further from the Australian coast - into waters that were deeper and darker, and harder to search.</p><p>What little sunlight filtered so far down from the surface was fading with the setting sun, and the murky waters were difficult to scan, even with the light he could project from his optic screen.Offshore made a deep, mournful sound that echoed in the depths, and reached his hands out a little further.</p><p>The worldwide ocean was a <em>big</em> place. At 361.9 <em>million</em> kilometers, it covered a little over 70% of the planet. While the Decepticons had probably not strayed far from the Australian coast around the mine, or even from the Nemesis, the natural currents were powerful. They could have washed away any trace, and he might be searching the entirely wrong area, or-</p><p>
  <em>
    <span class="small">
      <span class="small">CLANG.</span>
    </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>“.̡..͟.̨…͝”</b>
</p><p>The titan froze as something hard and metallic clacked against his clawed digits, and he immediately let his peds drop to the seabed, to anchor himself in place. He let his claws trace the shape of the find, unable to bring himself to look down right away. Please, no.</p><p>But as the seconds passed, and his sensors traced a painfully familiar form out of the sand, Offshore felt a void growing in his chest. Very, very carefully, the massive mech began to dig his claws into the sand and rock, and lift the body free. Despite the rust, algae, encrusted sand and gaping wounds, there was no mistaking their identity…</p><p>The sea floor gave him up too easily, and Offshore wailed to realize that his missing friend was no-longer in one piece. No energon stained the water as he dug - almost frantically - for the rest of Lockheed.</p><p>He had been down here too long, and there was none left.</p><p>Offshore tried to hold the mech together as he cradled the broken form to his chestplate, optic shuttered in grief. He had hoped, however futilely, that Megatron’s word’s had been a lie. He had hoped that this was all a cruel joke….some kind of unique punishment for his petty acts of rebellion, and nothing more.</p><p>But he held the evidence there in his claws. Lockheed - his best friend, his soulmate, his  e v e r y t h i n g - was dead. Murdered. Thrown into the ocean like garbage and left to r o t.</p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>Just like his child.</strike>
  </em>
</p><p><b>“R҉r̵̡͘r̴̨a̵͝a̸͞a̡͡a͝ag͝g̶hh̕͜h̛h̛̛..͏..“</b> Anger burned through the void settling in his core, but the cry that rang through the water was heartwrenching. Offshore carefully adjusted his buoyancy to drift up off the sea floor, and cradled Lockshore’s corpse close to his body as he began to swim north. His love <em><strike>(no, his-…what was the word…Taygete had said it once….his ’conjunx’)</strike></em> deserved a respectful burial, somewhere he would be safe, and remembered.</p><p>And soon enough….<em><br/>
</em></p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Av͟͞en͞g̡ed.̵</em>
  </b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Friends In The Deep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt. Google translate was used.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The shipping yard closed its gates at 5pm, and the humans left at seven.</p><p>A pair of glowing red optics peeked out of the darkness between two towering stacks of colorful containers. They peered around the corners for a moment or two before a little purple minibot tip-toed out of hiding, clutching a squarish piece of scrap metal in their arms.</p><p>When assured that the coast was clear, they broke into a run across the aisle to the next row of containers. The clanging of their pedsteps echoed down the metal ‘hallways’, but there was no-one awake in the lot to hear them. At least, no-one who would be suspicious.</p><p>This was the only time of day they had to come out of hiding.</p><p>At last, the little minibot came to the end of the container rows - where the container yard opened up to wider expanses of concrete, and deep, rectangular slips designed for the heavy ships that carried the colorful boxes across the vast oceans. The minibot ran across this open expanse, and slowed to a stop just at the edge of one of these concrete slips.</p><p>“<a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2F%25E2%2580%259Dif&amp;t=OGE1NGUyYmVjZTZhZjU3ZjU1MGZhZDVmZWJjOTgyY2JlNWU5ZGE4NSw3bzBlcHY1Mg%3D%3D&amp;b=t%3AgjmIIWZhfvjqISFVpi8mQg&amp;p=https%3A%2F%2Fdimorphodon-defect.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175920850675%2Ffriends-in-the-deep-a-drabble&amp;m=1">सागर विशालकाय</a>…” Nau called out in a conspiratorial whisper, kneeling down at the edge of concrete, and leaning forward on her hands. “<a href="https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2F%25E2%2580%259Dif&amp;t=OGE1NGUyYmVjZTZhZjU3ZjU1MGZhZDVmZWJjOTgyY2JlNWU5ZGE4NSw3bzBlcHY1Mg%3D%3D&amp;b=t%3AgjmIIWZhfvjqISFVpi8mQg&amp;p=https%3A%2F%2Fdimorphodon-defect.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175920850675%2Ffriends-in-the-deep-a-drabble&amp;m=1">सागर विशालकाय</a>, here? This one has present!” She then sat back on her knees, and waited eagerly for a response, optics scanning the dark water below for any sign of movement.</p><p>After a few minutes of heavy silence, and blue glow began to filter up through the water, and Nau smiled widely; grabbing her precious scrap metal, she scrambled back from the edge of the dock as a pair of massive, clawed digits rose up from the depths, and tentatively gripped the edge of the concrete. A head with a single, dominating blue optic rose up from the water - nearly as large as Miss Dragon was tall - and a pair of thin antennae on either side raised themselves in a gesture of interest.</p><p><b>“Hęllo, l͡i͠ttl̸e one.”</b> Offshore greeted, somehow managing to put an audible smile into his voice. <b>“Wh̷at ͡m̢as͠t̷e҉rp̛i̡e̸ce d̵o̵ you͟ have ̶to sho͞w̛ m̨e to͜nig͘h͘t?̡“</b> Nau happily ran up to the giant mech, and held out her scrap metal with a rising series of chirps. She pointed proudly to the familiar, single-opticed figure rendered in chalk on the metal, and painted with a shiny glue to hold it in place.</p><p><b>“I͘s t̛ha̵t ̢m̷e?“</b> Offshore guessed correctly. The visual display of his optic changed to have a more friendly upturn to it. Slowly, he moved one set of claws, and very, <em>very</em> carefully grasped the edge of the offered artwork. Nau let go as he pulled it back, practically glowing with excitement, and Offshore made a show of looking over the gift with visible happiness.</p><p>“<b>“͠W̕hy, litt҉le o͏ne, I̕'̕m̧ flatte͡re͏d̶.͝“ </b>He rumbled, moving to tuck the artwork into a small subspace slot on his arm. <b>“Th͞an͘k̕ y̷o̸u̢. I ̧k͡no͜w exactly w̧he̷r͝e͡ ͟I͡'m̢ ͏goi͜ng ̛t͝o̸ ҉p͢ut ͢i͝t͝.̧”</b> With the gift safely stored away, the titan turned his attention back to his little artist friend, and ‘smiled’ again.</p><p><b>“N̵ơw͞…͘“</b> He gathered his claws beneath his ‘chin’, as if waiting to hear a grand story. <b>“Why do̴n'̨t you͢ tell̡ ͞me a̷b̸ou͢t͜ ͘you ̧we̵ek͜?”</b> Nau’s smile grew even bigger, and she happily began to chatter away in a confusing mix of words, languages, gestures and sounds. Though his level of understanding was - at times - dubious, Offshore listened attentively.</p><p>These ‘chats’ with Nau were sometimes the most social interaction he received for months on end, and he cherished them dearly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Sharing Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Written to fulfill a prompt. Sunstreaker may be OOC - it's been a while.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>“….I͏ w͜a͘n̨t to sh̛o͝w ̷yo͝u̧ so҉met̕h҉i͠ng̷.̡”</b> Offshore’s rumbling voice broke the peaceful silence hanging over the sunset, and Sunstreaker twitched. He looked up at towering mech, but Offshore’s lone optic was still fixed on the reddening horizon.<b>“It iş ҉a̶l̛r̕ęa͢ḑy t̨o҉o͢ ̧d͞a̧rk,̸ ̛bu҉t.̢.̡….̴i̵t is͠ i̷mporta̕n͜t҉ ͢tơ me̸, and I wan̡t̶ t̕o sh͜are it̶ with ͟y͝ou͡.”</b></p><p>With a mechanical hiss, and the clatter of some monstrous machine turning and shifting, the mech looked down at the smaller figure perched on the rocks beside him. Sunstreaker reminded himself not to lean back. He wasn’t used to feeling so….small…but in Offshore’s shadow, that’s all a mech <em>could</em> feel. It had given him a nice perspective on Chip and Spike.</p><p><b>“C͞an you meet m̵e̛ h͠ere t̢omo̷r͡ro҉w?”</b> Offshore requested solemnly. <b>“We̛ wi͞l͏l need t͝h̵e ͠s̛u͘nli͏g̷hţ ̷t͏o̵ se͠e͟ i͟t͟.҉”</b></p><p>“Of course.” Sunstreaker replied with a nod that was just as respectfully serious, though the gesture was made difficult by how far <em>up</em> he had to look. “Megatron himself couldn’t keep me away.”</p><p><b>“.҉….͢” </b>The titan had little in the way of expression to give, but Sunstreaker felt a distinct aura of ‘smile’ being shone down at him from that bright blue optic. Offshore shifted to look back at the horizon, and they watched the last few golden rays surrender the sky to a starry dark blue in a comfortable silence.</p><hr/><p>The next morning, Sunstreaker left the Ark with the sunrise, offering little explanation beyond a vague “I’ve got to go do a thing” to his confused twin. Outside the ship, the warrior transformed, and tore off down the empty road with the roar of his high performance engine.</p><p>With no other drivers (human or otherwise) out and about at such an early hour, Sunstreaker made good time, and arrived at the usual meeting spot only a few hours after sunrise. Offshore was already waiting for him - even so far out from the beach, the massive mech could easily be seen lounging out in the waves. He perked up visibly when the yellow Lamborghini pulled into the beach parking lot, and began swimming in closer.</p><p>Sunstreaker transformed out in the lot, and walked out onto the beach just as Offshore reached the surf. Still unwilling to fully emerge from the water, the giant mech extended one hand over the foam and waves, and Sunstreaker easily stepped up on those large digits.</p><p><b>“…yo̡u̧ ̴c̕ame.”</b> Offshore sounded a little surprised. Sunstreaker tilted his head, and braced himself casually against one large digit as Offshore lifted his arm, and pulled the mech out over the water.</p><p>“Of course I did.” He smiled. “I never break a promise.” Offshore’s expression remained unreadable, but the silence between them was comfortable as the titan pushed away from the shore, and moved the Autobot onto his back.</p><p><b>“G҉e̡t͏ comf͏o̴r̴ta̧ble.“</b> Offshore recommended as he pushed off the continental shelf, and glided out into deeper water. <b>“We ͏need͞ t̢o͜ ͜sw͢im f̧o̸r a҉ ̛l͏it͠tl͟e͡ ̶whil͠e…”</b></p><p>…….</p><p>An hour or two later, they reached their nameless destination somewhere along the Canadian coast.</p><p>Offshore carefully made his way into a closed-off cove surrounded by dense forest and high cliffs, and drifted with the waves. Slowly, he righted himself, giving Sunstreaker time to climb up to his neck without getting dunked into the surf.</p><p><b>“W̧hat̡ ̴I̵ ͝wan͏t͜ to̶ ̕show ͘yo͞u ͠i̛s͢ ̢u͡nd͘erneat̕h ͟t̴h͏e͞ w͡at̛er.“</b> The titan turned his head ever so slightly. He could not see his Autobot friend where he stood - his anatomy simply did not allow it without knocking Sunstreaker into the water. <b>“I promise, I will not make you stay under long. I-…..“</b> Offshore hesitated. <b>“…͟.t̛h͜is ̢i͠s ̢som̶eth҉ing ͘I͢ ҉b͡eli͡ȩve͘ y͡ou ̛d͏es̡e͢r̕v͏e̸ t҉o̷ know̕ a̵bout.“</b></p><p>“Buddy, listen…” Sunstreaker laid one hand on the dark blue metal of his friend’s audio panel. The big mech’s antennae perked up curiously. “If it’s that important to you, then it’s worth a little salt on my finish. Besides,” The frontliner shrugged. “Mirage just so happened to score me some top-notch sealer last week.” He bragged. “This wannabe salt pile of a puddle won’t even stick!”</p><p><b>“.҉….͢”</b> Once more, Offshore seemed to smile without a face. Slowly, he powered down his hydro turbines, and began to sink beneath the waves. The cove proved to be much deeper than Sunstreaker had first thought - he looked down after the waves had closed over his helm, and saw that even Offshore had a few meters to go to reach the rocky bottom.</p><p>The cove looked almost…dredged, actually. As if the natural surface had been scraped away to make it level, but for one large, oblong pile of rocks on the south side, and a simple, hut-like structure beside it. Sunstreaker tossed his companion a confused glance as they reached the bottom, but Offshore was unable to see it as he bent his knees, and brought them to rest on the bottom, facing the two strange structures.</p><p>The massive mech was silent for a long, long time. Sunstreaker felt a small twist of concern after five minutes, and was about to speak up when Offshore finally did.</p><p><b>“Y͟o̶u a̸l҉re̵a͏dy҉ ̨k̶no͟w̸ ̢t̨h͝e Dece̶pti̡co͜n҉s cr͡e͝a̛t̨e͝d me.͜“</b> The titan muttered. His voice was still loud and booming, even distorted by the ocean around them. <b>“Ho͡w͘ th̕ey͏ ųsed ̨me̡ for tr̢ans̡p͞or͟t, a̕n͠d̵ ͠s҉hip҉p͡ing̡.͠ I ͞sw̕am oc͟ea̕ns ̴e̸very ̵w̷eek, haul̢i͟ng ̛cargo̷ a̸t̨ ͟t̢he͏i̷r̴ ev̵eŗy ͏wh͝im̸.͠..“</b> Offshore brought his hands into his lap, and turned his head to look down at them.</p><p><b>“E̕ver̴y ͘we͝e͟k,͢ ̴I ͘h͟a̛d a̸ ͡guide̸ t͡o k͞e̴ep̶ m͢e҉ c̶om̴pa̵ny.̶ He̕ wa̡s a҉ ͠D͝ecept̷ico̧n̛. H̵i͏s name̡ wa͡s͏ ̕L͘o͜c̵khe̸ed͘.̕“</b> The mech’s shoulders slumped, and Sunstreaker had to readjust his footing to stay balanced. <b>“For͟ a ̛v͡e̢ry l҉o͢n͟g tim̶e͡, he w̨a҉s my o̕nl͘y͘ f͢r̴ien͘d. ̢Actual̡l̢y.̛..‘͜f̵ri̢e̴nd͜’ i͘s̷n'҉t ͢n͢ea͡r̕l̷y͏ s҉tr̵o͞n̢g͜ ̕e͠no̕ug͡h҉ ̴a̸ w͜o͟r̕d ̴to d̶es̴cribe͜ him.”</b> Offshore’s tone grew sorrowful, and he made a low, mournful sound that echoed in the deep blue. <b>“He ̛wa̢s͡.̷..͏.ęv̛e̶ry͠thing.“</b></p><p><b>“.̵…̢.̸.͝h̕e͞ i͏ş ͝d̸ead.҉“</b> The words came out so quiet, Sunstreaker almost couldn’t hear them. But he could hear the ‘clank’ and creak of metal as Offshore’s hands clenched themselves into tight fists. <b>“M̸egat҉ron̛ h̡ad ͏h̨i͟m -̶ ̨and hi̧s͘ ̨clos̶ęst͜ ̕co̸m͝pani͟o̕ns͏ ̶-̵ ͘k̸i͞lled.̕ ̨For͟ ͢<em>n͢o͢thi҉n̶g̛</em>.̨”</b> The titan made an odd hissing sound through his vents, and bubbles cascaded upwards towards the surface.</p><p><b>“Ţhey͢ ̸th̴r̶e̢w̷ ḩi͢s̢ r͝e̡mains͞ ̸i̡n̢to̢ ͞m͠y͠ ̨ocea̛n like͜…͟lik͜e̛ t̴r̕a͜sh̨! ̛Li̧ke͜ h͝e ̧was nothin̛g̵!̸“</b> Offshore suddenly slammed one fist into the rocks, and the stone erupted into a cloud of pulverized particles. With no current to drag them away, they took their time to drift, and slowly settle back to the bottom.</p><p><b>“̸Į f͜oun̛d ͞h̕im r҉ustin̴g ̨o̕n t͝h͜e͠ ͡oce̸an ̶fl͡o̡o̷r̛,̴ ne͞a̕rl͞y͞ ov͜e̛rt͝a͡k͜e̴n͝ ͜by ̧n̴a̸tu̵re͞.͏“</b> The mech made another deep, sorrowful sound, loud enough to shake Sunstreaker’s plating. <b>“I coul͝d n̡ot l͟ea̕ve hi҉m̕ ̛t͘ơ dis͟app͟e̸ar..̶.“</b></p><p>“….this was your place, wasn’t it?” Sunstreaker guessed, finally speaking up in the silence that followed the titan’s outburst. Offshore slowly unclenched his hands, and sagged where sat.</p><p><b>“W̕hen ̵we w̸e̷r̴e n̡ot t̢ra͢vel͜i͏ng th̢ousa̴nds͡ ͠o̡f͠ m͜il͏es̡ to͝gęth̴er͢,̢ ͜we ̢s͝t͜a͏y͢ed h͞e͠r̷e.͡ T̡og͞ether̴.“</b> He replied in a quieter, heavier tone. <b>“We saw ̕h͘un͡d͘reḑs ̷of͢ sun҉ set̵s ͢and ҉ŗi͝se̶s͜..͘.̴stormy ͢s̷eas̵ ͢a͟n̛d͡ ̸gl̨ass͡y͝ ̴horiz͝o̴n͘s.“</b> Another flurry of bubbles rushed to the surface as Offshore vented again, but it was a shorter, softer gesture. <b>“..̕..he ̴de̷s̵e͢r̕ve̡d̡ so͞ ̕muc͞h͜ b͏e̸tt͘er.̛“</b></p><p>“You really cared for him, huh?” Sunstreaker regarded the titan with a carefully schooled expression of neutrality. He recognized that deep connection so thinly veiled behind Offshore’s handpicked wording and barely-restrained violence. He called his connection ‘Sideswipe’.</p><p><b>“̨I ̴d͠o͝ ͘n̨o͡t̵ ̶want ̕y͞o͝u͞ t͜o th̡i͜nk͘ y͢ou arę ̡a r͞epla͡çe̛m̡ęn̷t.͡“</b> Offshore leaned his head to the side and twisted it, trying to look directly at Sunstreaker this time. <b>“͜Ma͏ny͜ ̨ţh̶in͟gs͠ a̛b̡out ̶you҉.͘..remind̸ ҉me.͞.͝.͟o͏f h̸im̸.̨.̷.̢b͏u͜t ̷y҉ou ͝ar͟e n͡o͘t ̸t҉he͟ s͞a͡m͏e. I mer̛e͠l͜y͡ ̷t͡h̨ought-͠.͜…“</b> Sunstreaker placed a silent hand on the edge of the mech’s optic rim, and Offshore stopped. Bit by bit, the titan tilted, until he was hunched awkwardly over his knees, gingerly ‘hugging’ the yellow Autobot with his head and shoulder joint.</p><p><b>“I͟ want͟ed ͠yo͘ư ͢to ̶kn̨o̶w ̢ab͘out hi̸m̸.͘“</b> Another mournful sound was made, followed by a soft hitch that could only be a sob. <b>“I̕ can't̵ b̕e͟ar ̷t͠o le͡t his̨ mem̸o͜ry fade aw͠a̧y w͏i͝t̨h͘ ̵hi̡s͡ lįfe.“</b></p><p>“You won’t.” Sunstreaker gently leaned his forehead against Offshore’s optical glass. It was the best he could do, as the titan was too big to hug properly. “I know you won’t…” The frontliner smiled, and stepped back to better look Offshore in the optic. “Thank you for sharing his memory with me.”</p><p><b>“.҉….͢”</b> The titan curled up a little more, and the cove echoed with another wail.</p><hr/><p>It was early evening by the time Sunstreaker rolled back up to the Ark, nonchalantly striding through the main doors as if he’d only been out for a stroll. Optimus Prime met him at the door to the rec room, and Sunstreaker stopped to offer his leader a grin.</p><p>“Evening, sir.” Sunstreaker gave a quick salute.</p><p>“Sunstreaker,” Optimus crossed his arms over his chestplate. “May I ask where you’ve been all day?” He asked, his tone leaving little room for argument. “No-one’s heard from you since you left this morning.”</p><p>“I was doing something important, sir.” He replied with a meaningful glint in his optics. “As far as I know, I had no duty assignments today, and there’s been no Decepticon activity. Did I miss a call?”</p><p>“No…” The Prime relaxed his stance a tad. “But next time, let someone know you’re going to be out late. You were gone for hours, and some of us were a bit…concerned.”</p><p>“By ‘some of us’, you mean Red Alert.” Sunstreaker corrected. Optimus sighed quietly.</p><p>“Just…give him a little piece of mind the next time you need to disappear for a while.” The Autobot leader suggested quietly. “For all our sakes.”</p><p>“I’ll do my best, sir.” Sunstreaker turned on one heel and headed into the rec room to grab a quick cube of energon. Optimus watched him walk away with a quiet shake of his head, and then headed back to his office.</p><p>Hopefully, the promise of a little future forewarning would calm his security officer…</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Curious Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt. Part of the "Whose Child Is This??" AU.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prowl felt a tiny servo pat his left doorwing, and resisted the urge to twitch it back.</p><p>The little protoform meant no harm, and with his caretaker still under Ratchet’s supervision, he was probably just looking for entertainment. Prowl wished someone else would come along to provide it, but Sprint had been quiet and behaved thus far, so the Datsun saw no reason to-</p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;How come your wings are so small?&gt;&gt;</b></em> Sprint wondered out loud, giving the nearest black and white panel another curious pat. Prowl paused, his stylus midstroke on the datapad, and lifted his head. <em><b>&lt;&lt;You can’t fly with these, can you? You’re way too big!&gt;&gt;</b></em></p><p><b><em>&lt;&lt;I don’t use them for flying.&gt;&gt;</em></b> Prowl responded after a minute of thought. Cybertronian words flowed easily off his tongue, despite how dominated his language banks had been by Earth-born dialects since the resuming of the war. <em><b>&lt;&lt;They are not ‘wings’ in the same sense as your caretaker’s.&gt;&gt;</b></em> Blue optic lights flickered in a ‘blink’ as Sprint considered this, and then took on a distinctive downward slant - an emotive trait picked directly from his contact with Spike and Carly.</p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;Then why did Jazz call them ‘wings’?&gt;&gt; </b></em>The protoform argued, his thin plating flaring out with an irritated huff.<em><b> &lt;&lt;Wings are supposed to be for flying!&gt;&gt;</b></em> In the privacy of his office, Prowl allowed a tiny, fond smile to twitch up the corner of his mouth.</p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;The proper term is ‘doorwings’.&gt;&gt;</b></em> He explained patiently. <em><b>&lt;&lt;It’s used because the placement of alt mode doors on certain frame times resemble that of a flyer’s wings.&gt;&gt;</b></em> Sprint seemed to accept this answer after thinking on it for a minute, and let his plating lie flat again. A comfortable silence fell over the office, and Prowl returned to his work.<em><b><br/></b></em></p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;….would Mama would still have wings if she turned into a car?&gt;&gt; </b></em>Sprint asked again after a few minutes had passed. Prowl kept his eyes on his work, but the fond smile returned.</p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;Not necessarily.&gt;&gt;</b></em> He replied.<em><b> &lt;&lt;Hound and Mirage both turn into cars, and they don’t have doorwings, do they?&gt;&gt;</b></em> Prowl pointed out. Sprint tapped his faceplate thoughtfully.</p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;I guess not….&gt;&gt;</b></em> He conceded. <em><b>&lt;&lt;Hmm…&gt;&gt;</b></em> The protoform suddenly perked up with a thought. <em><b>&lt;&lt;Would </b></em>I<em><b> have wings if I turned into a car??&gt;&gt;</b></em> Prowl let his smile widen a tad.</p><p><em><b>&lt;&lt;Maybe…&gt;&gt;</b></em> The Datsun hummed. <em><b>&lt;&lt;You’ll just have to find out when you’re older.&gt;&gt;</b></em></p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Deepwater Rescue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short. Written to fulfill a prompt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Offshore was often alone beneath the Pacific waves, and he preferred it that way.</p><p>There were hardly any humans to gawk at him, and he never had to worry about the wildlife bothering him, as he was the biggest thing around for thousands of miles. This did mean that all sorts of wildlife steered him clear, however - none of the local predators were brave enough to hunt in his periphery, but no prey yet dared to try and live around something so big and mobile.</p><p>So Offshore was surprised, when he unshuttered his optic from a nap, to see a yellow figure lying in the sand nearby. The mech ‘blinked’ once, and made to roll to his knees. He kicked up a daunting cloud of sand and particulates, but the current lazily washed them away, and Offshore moved to hover one hand over the Cybertronian’s still form.</p><p>There was something viscous and unnaturally pink leaking from a large gash, torn through the metal plating of his back. The current waved off the lean in a meandering stream, tainting the water around it with an unsettlingly familiar taste. There was a hopelessly complex mess of cords and wiring and switches inside the gash, and it looked incredibly painful.</p><p>Looking up, he could still see the fading ripples on the surface - some hundred and fifty feet above - from where the strange mech had fallen. There were dark shapes flitting about in the air beyond, but they were too far up for Offshore to tell who they were. Perhaps they were more Autobots. Perhaps they were Decepticons. He wouldn’t know until he broke the surface.</p><p>The massive mech bent down, and ever so carefully wormed his flat, claw-like digits beneath the injured mech. He carefully lifted his ‘patient’ off the sandy bottom of the continental shelf. If those were Autobots above, then he would return their comrade, for he knew that red badge on the mech’s chestplate was no Decepticon marker.<br/><br/>If those were Decepticons above…<br/><br/>….well. He’d deal with them when he broke the surface.<br/><br/>Holding the injured Autobot against his own chestplate, for stability, Offshore placed one ped against the ocean floor, and pushed off in a cloud of sand and shells. His massive form glided easily up through the water, and as he approached the surface, he activated the hydroturbine attached to his free arm, slowing his momentum just enough to break only his head and shoulders above the ocean’s surface.</p><p>The flying mechs he encountered stared at him in open-mouthed shock, and some even looked a little sick. Offshore dimly wondered why they wouldn’t make optic-contact with him for more than a few seconds, but he soon shrugged off the thought, and held up his occupied hand with its precious cargo.</p><p>
  <b>“I͟ b̨eli̕e̕ve ͘yo҉u͜ are l͜o͜oki͡ng͏ f̧o̵r ̛this ̴on̡e͏.”</b>
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